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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757164">you’re always on my mind (i think i think too much)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>always on my mind [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Keenker, M/M, Parley, PotatoScience, Sex, Teeny bit of angst, harley is an ass, i don’t make the rules, i wrote this slightly horny at two am so fuck you, only because he’s in love, parkner, short and sweet, smut but like not sex smut, too many damn ship names, yeah they make out on a lab table</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 11:20:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re such an ass!”<br/>“Only for you, darling.”</p><p>~</p><p>Tony invites Harley to stay for the summer. Peter wonders what ever he did to make Harley tease him so much. He’s decided on the fact that’s just how Harley is- an ass.<br/>Until he kisses him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harley Keener &amp; Peter Parker, Harley Keener/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>always on my mind [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642360</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>718</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you’re always on my mind (i think i think too much)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter Parker cannot stop thinking about Harley Keener.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Tony first brought the boy back from Tennessee at the beginning of the summer, he was apprehensive. Harley’s blue eyes, southern twang, and stupidly accentuated biceps supposedly from ‘working with cars’ made him impossible not to give a good first impression. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">But Harley was an </span> <em><span class="s2">ass</span><span class="s1">.</span></em></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Constantly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’d tease Peter, and when he got red from the teasing he’d only tease more. Peter would eventually have to leave the room because his face was so red and his heart was beating so fast. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So whenever Peter Parker sees Harley Keener, the first thought that comes to mind is asshole. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">The second thought is of how fucking </span> <span class="s2">hot</span> <span class="s1"> he is. </span></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now, Pete may not be a cynic but he’s not an idiot. He knows about boys like Harley. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Boys who hide their pain with humor are the ones who take their anger for the world, bottle it up, and show it drop by drop to everyone around them. That’s why Harley’s so... mean. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s not mean, per say, he’s just... relentless. Teasing, taunting, annoying, and all on a daily basis. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s snapped out of his existential thoughts by the sound of a snap and a muffled grunt. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit,” Harley mutters, waving his hand. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You ok?” Peter asks, even though he knows better. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, you worried about me Parker?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter crosses his arms and spins around on his chair, unimpressed. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley rolls his eyes. “Just a little burn. Too much heat friction wore down the integrity, gave me a bit of a snap back when it broke.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter turns back to his work awkwardly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why do you always get so worked up about everything? I burn myself and it’s like I have cancer,” Harley laughs. “You gotta let loose, Petey.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t call me that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t call you what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter’s done. He’s so, so done staring into the eyes of a boy he knows will never love him back, of a boy who’s foolish and rash and perfect, of a boy who’s a complete ass to him on adaily basis.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know what I mean. All week, you’ve been an ass. Now, I don’t know if thats just every day for you, but it’s getting pretty annoying for me! We don’t have to be friends, can we just be civil?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley stands up, his face not slight with laughter anymore. “You think I’m an ass? Really?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Maybe all your constant teasing is normal in Dirt Town, Tennessee but this is New York, idiot. I don’t have time for your bullshit.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My bullshit,” Harley laughs. “You think my teasing is me being an ass? You think me having a go at you every chance is because I do that to everyone?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter throws his hands above his head and marches closer to him. “Then why! Why am I so special that you have to make my lab time like a lukewarm hell!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley grabs his face and pulls him into a kiss, which effectively shuts him up. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The kiss is hard, frantic, and breathtaking. Literally. He can’t breathe, with Harley’s lips crushed up against his but that doesn’t mean he isn’t loving it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley moves him slowly back to the lab table, waiting until Peter’s legs hit the back to properly kiss him again, all teeth and tongue and lust. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sparks flare and a taste as sweet as honey fills Harley’s mouth, there’s lava in his veins and Peter feels it too. He moans. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shhh,” Harley murmurs. His breath collides with Peter’s neck, and it’s all Peter can do not to moan louder than ever before. Peter’s hips jolt forward, seeking the friction, wanting and grasping as his hands twitch on Harley’s spine. He whimpers. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley ducks up to bite Peter’s jaw, making Peter shudder and throw back his head. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You know what I really want?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley doesn’t give him a chance to reply. “I want to take you back to my room. I want to fuck you so hard you can’t walk in the morning.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” Peter groans, thrusting his hips up wildly.“Yes, please-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley wraps his hands around Peter’s ass, pulling him tighter while squeezing. “I’ve been wondering, how should I do it?” Harley whispers into his ear. “Do I want to take you on your knees, and watch myself as I fuck you? Or on your back, so I can see your pretty little face and watch you moan?” Harley moves down his neck, tasting and biting then clamping down on his collarbone. “Or I could hold you down on the desk and fuck you right here, Darling.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There’s fire, they can feel it, it’s red hot and pulsing but so, so good-</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley’s leg slides between Peter’s hips and the other boy grinds against it. He can feel Peter, it’s intoxicating, better then any drug. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Harley, oh my god-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter’s hands bury themselves in his hair, twisting and pulling the golden locks. Harley whimpers this time, only for a second before reigning himself in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Think about it, and let me know,” he breathes into Peter’s ear, untangling himself from the mess of limbs and withdrawing his arms from their position on Peter’s ass. “‘Cause I’m pretty anxious to fuck you crazy, darling.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He turns around and walks out of the lab with a smirk on his face, leaving Peter hard and wanting him to turn right back around. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next few days are hell. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">Harley walks around like he knows everything, which he probably does. What happened in the science lab was fast, awesome, and </span> <span class="s2">hot</span> <span class="s1">- really hot. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. It’s made it impossible to work, and as soon as he starts daydreaming he has to stop because goddamnit he is not getting a boner during a meeting. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He and Harley are officially Tony’s interns, so it means legal work sometimes, usually for training but a bit for real reasons. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley’s wearing a blue shirt today. It totally matches the color of his eyes, but that’s not relevant. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s not relevant the fact that the shirt clings tightly to Harley’s abs and biceps, but he can’t stop thinking about it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually, he gives up. Dropping his work at the station and purposefully ignoring Harley as he goes, Peter walks up to his room. Shedding his clothes quickly, he turns on the shower and jumps in.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Here’s the main reason he’s so hesitant. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Number one. He doesn’t want to be someone’s fuckboy. He wouldn’t say no to sex with Harley but... he wants to be something more then a booty call, you know?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Number two. The way Harley made him feel... he’s never felt like that. Never. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All his relationships, his first with Gwen Stacy that lasted for three weeks before she broke it off, and the other with Harry Osborn, his first time, first I love you, the only person who makes him feel remotely like Harley makes him feel, lost in a spiral of heavy breakups and broken promises. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The real takeaway is- he doesn’t want to be hurt, but he wants Harley Keener to fuck him. He wants- oh god, he wants Harley so bad.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Water streams down his shoulders, and he groans, thinking of that stupid tight shirt Harley wore today. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter closes his eyes, letting images flood his brain. Harley in that shirt, Harley with a snarky grin, Harley kissing him against a lab table, Harley grinding down on him like his life depends on it, Harley Harley Harley-</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter lets out a shaky breath. That’s never happened before. He didn’t even have to-</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nope.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley Keener may be some kind of sex god but that does not mean he’s in love with him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Eventually Peter has the common sense to shut the water off. Stepping out of the shower, he dries himself off swiftly and tugs on some clothes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Turning to his clock, he realizes it’s late. He’s been in the shower for- well, a while. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’ll talk to Harley tomorrow. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’s in the lab, trying to get his web shooters to work, but they got jammed when he took a bit of a tumble and apparently spider strength doesn’t make him nimble when it comes to pulling out smashed bits of metal from the inside of his machine. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me,” a smooth voice says behind him. Harley Fucking Keener leans over him, placing their backs together and taking the tweezers. In one expert move, he’s flipped the design and pulled the metal out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thanks,” Peter stutters. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well I want something in return,” Harley snarks, sitting on the lab counter and crossing his arms. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter scoffs. “I will not have sex with you just because you fixed my web shooter.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, but you will for another reason.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter does his best to stay calm, narrowing his eyes. “What’s that then, smartass?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You like me,” Harley admits with a smile. “I like you. Don’t think I didn’t hear you moaning for me to make you come when I kissed you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Harley!” Peter hisses, glancing around to see if anyone could have overheard. Thankfully, the lab is a private one for the two of them and the walls are soundproof after multiple... well, explosion incidents. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley only laughs, his body language so carefree. He jumps down from his perch on the bench, leaning against it instead.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter decides he’s done being afraid. He wants Harley, and he wants him now. “Rules. One, I’m not your sugar baby. Two, don’t tell anyone. Three, wear more t-shirts.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley raises his eyebrows. “I wear plenty of t-shirts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter stands up, walking close to Harley. He knows it’s the lab. He knows it’s dangerous. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he doesn’t give a shit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You and that damned blue t-shirt are the reason I got off in the shower last night.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“To bad you didn’t let me join you,” Harley snickers. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And then, the snap Peter’s been waiting for.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley grabs Peter’s hips, slamming him against the counter before crushing their lips together. Harley’s hands are everywhere- his torso, his neck, his hips, his ass. They’re covering him, burning him up from the inside out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And he can’t get enough. This is addiction, he thinks faintly. Harley’s a drug and I’m on it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter opens his mouth, leaning into the kiss. He may not have had great relationships before, but he knows how to properly make out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His hands find their way into Harley’s hair, remembering that was his weak spot from before. Harley’s breath hitches, his muscles tensing while he stifles a moan. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good thing to know the sex god has his turn-ons,” Peter gasps as Harley begins mouthing at his throat, nipping and licking his way down. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“How do you wanna do this,” Harley groans.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bed,” Peter strangulates. “Your room. It’s- ah!- it’s closer.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley smiles into Peter’s neck, leaving fresh hickeys in his wake. Bending his legs for a boost, Harley slides a hand under Peter’s ass and hauls him up. Peter wraps his legs around Harley’s torso. They move together the few feet across the hall and down a few doors, still kissing, before Harley slides his StarkWatch against the doorknob and it clicks open. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He lets keeps walking, past a little living area and a kitchenette, to the bedroom. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s a rather ordinary bedroom, no exotic anything, tidied but personified. Peter cares nothing much about it other then the bed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley deposits him there, then with a wicked smile holds a palm out. “Wait,” he says, before disappearing into the bathroom. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Half a minute later, he comes out with a few silver packets and a bottle of lube. He throws the lube and a packet on the bed, before properly going down on Peter. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To say Peter can’t breathe is an understatement. Even if he could physically, his brain wouldn’t let him. He’s about to have sex with Harley Keener. And it’s going to be fucking awesome. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley lets himself fall father onto Peter, knees bracketing the brunette’s hips as he kisses him harder, deeper. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley’s hands find their way underneath Peter’s shirt. He gently tugs at it, asking for permission. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yes,” Peter gasps, and lifts himself long enough to pull the shirt off. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And holy fuck, Peter is... beautiful. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit, Parker,” He breathes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Perks of radioactive spider venom,” Peter gasps. “Now stop staring and fuck me, please.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley is overjoyed to accept the invitation. He pulls his own shirt over his head, letting Peter drool over his biceps and pecs built working with cars to make a summer living in Rose Hill. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As the most decidedly brash and gay kid in Rose Hill, he’s had sex before. Hell, he’s had one night stands before. Drugs and alcohol he was too smart to mess with, but sex... no one had warned him how good it was.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Peter feels different. Their energy feels like something more than lust. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then Peter grinds up on him and he loses control.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley can’t breathe.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter Parker. Peter fucking Parker. He is weak for this man. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The way his breath comes out at little pants at Harley’s temple. The way he moans and whine when Harley thrusts hard enough.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Right now, he’s pretty hung up on the moaning. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Harley,” Peter whines. “Harley, please just- please-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Say it,” Harley murmurs into his ear. He’s set a slow and steady rhythm, but it isn’t enough. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fuck me,” Peter chokes out, and Harley can’t keep it slow. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He moves and slams his hips back in, almost blacking out from the sound Peter makes, like a whimper and a scream at once. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley grunts, then moans as Peter’s slick heat envelops him again and again. He can’t hold himself in. He can’t control it. “Peter, Peter, I’m gonna-“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Harley,” he moans. “Harley, please.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His words send Harley over the edge. There’s no going back. In one smooth movement, he pulls his hips back then slides back in, assaulting Peter’s prostate.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The boy below him lets out a noise close to a whimper, and then with a shudder and a moan he lets go. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Harley’s breath catches at the feeling of Peter clenching around him, the feeling of his body shaking through the orgasm that he caused. Suddenly, he lets go.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They both flop onto the bed, exhausted. Harley still has the condom on. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Is-“ Peter swallows. “Is sex always like that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Did I just take your virginity?” Harley asks, a smudge of regret in his voice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No,” Peter says. “But is it always that good?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Never,” Harley admits. “Never felt that- what I had with you- never.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peter looks over, sees Harley’s flushes face and sweaty curls. He must look the same. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Harley looks happy.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>eeep this is total shit. Love yall!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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